Letters
by amyxaphania
Summary: With only days until the birth of her baby, she visits the grave of its dead father. Every month she has delivered a letter...are they enough to help her overcome her sadness?


**Letters**

**_Do not stand at my grave and weep,_****_  
_****_I am not there, I do not sleep._****__**

**_I am a thousand winds that blow._****_  
_****_I am the diamond glint on snow._****_  
_****_I am the sunlight on ripened grain._****_  
_****_I am the gentle autumn rain._****__**

**_When you wake in the morning hush,_****_  
_****_I am the swift, uplifting rush _****_  
_****_Of quiet birds in circling flight._****_  
_****_I am the soft starlight at night._****__**

**_Do not stand at my grave and weep._****_  
_****_I am not there, I do not sleep._****_  
_****_Do not stand at my grave and cry._****_  
_****_I am not there, I did not die!_****_  
_****_Mary Frye (1932)_**

The wind stung her cheeks and whipped her hair into a frenzy. She was glad she'd let it grow long, it gave her a curtain to hide behind, a mask to wear when everything became too much.

The day was cold and gloomy, the sky overcast with clouds, and as she gazed into its swirling darkness, her eyes filled with tears and she felt the sharp sting of rain on her cheeks.

Cradling her swollen stomach, she pulled her cloak tighter around her body, and forged onwards, through the damp grass that soaked the ends of her trousers, towards the trees that enclosed the graveyard like a fence.

She thought back to the countless times she'd visited this place, the number of times she'd stood by his grave and cried and sobbed and screamed until she was hoarse. Tightening her grip around the parchment in her hands, she allowed her gaze to fall on the shaky writing, the ink starting to run in the rain, and swayed on the spot, a feeling of light-headedness overtaking her, as she recalled all of the letters she'd delivered over the past months.

_13th January 1999_

_Today I felt the baby kick for the first time. It was amazing…to think that we created this, a new life, that I am carrying inside me. I didn't cry when you died. I didn't cry at your funeral, nor at your graveside. But today, when I felt our baby kicking, I couldn't help but cry for the unfairness of it all. YOU should have been there to feel it. YOU should be here with me. _

_I was in the bathroom at The Burrow, and Ginny came in – I hadn't locked the door you see – and she found me slumped on the floor, cradling my tiny bump, crying my eyes out. I bet I looked a state. She didn't say anything though, just sat down next to me and stayed with me until the tears subsided._

_It's unfair that she should have to do that. YOU should be here to comfort me. But then – if you were here, I wouldn't need to be comforted. _

_Your Mum's been great. I couldn't wish for a better place to be…except perhaps with you. I can't get out of the habit of calling her Mrs Weasley. She tells me "not to be so silly dear, call me Molly", but it's difficult. I can see the sadness in her eyes sometimes – though she disguises it well. It's in the moments when she lets her guard down, perhaps she'll be knitting in the living room, or stirring a stew on the stove, and I can see unshed tears in her eyes. _

_It makes me sad._

_I love you._

Bowing her head against the wind, which was becoming stronger as every second passed, she continued making her way towards the graveyard, her footsteps muffled by the softness of the grass, her breath coming in short gasps as she tried to hold back the tears caused by remembering.

_28th February 1999_

_I found Harry sitting in your room earlier. He was just sitting on your bed, staring at the orange walls. It's the closest he's come to grieving since you…since it happened. Most days he and Ginny hide themselves away in her room. He barely talks to anyone but her anymore. He never talks to me._

_Sometimes I see him staring at my stomach, and I want to know what he's thinking, but I can't bring myself to ask. I'm afraid of the answer. Is he wishing that the baby didn't exist and you were still here? Sometimes I think these thoughts, and then I get angry with myself. I should be glad that there is a part of you growing inside of me. But then I find myself cursing the baby, offering it up as an exchange for your life back. And then I feel so, so very guilty. _

_There are still three months left until the baby is born, but I love it._

_But I love you more._

Having finally reached his grave, she sank down onto her knees, the wet grass soaking through to her skin, cold and damp. She placed the parchment that she held in her hand at the base of the stone marker, and scrabbled around in the dirt for a pebble to weigh it down with.

She brought him a letter every month.

_18th March 1999_

_I look like a whale. I went to see my parents earlier, and Mum said I was 'blooming', but I look like a fat, sweaty, red-faced whale. Mum wanted to know why I was still living at The Burrow. I told her it reminded me of you, and she didn't ask me any more. But the reality of it is, I don't think I could handle living at home right now. I need to have Harry and Ginny and your Mum and everyone around to keep me going. _

_At home, I'd be on my own for most of the day, Mum and Dad would be at work drilling holes in someone's teeth. And I couldn't stand being at home, sitting alone with my thoughts, with an interminable amount of time stretching before me._

_At The Burrow, there's always something to do, always someone around. I never have time to sit and think. I like it better that way._

_I went to see the healer last week. She asked if I wanted to know the sex of the baby. I said no. It'll be a surprise. Your Mum told me off for not finding out if it's a boy or a girl. She wants to start knitting clothes, and needs to know what colour. I told her to do them whichever colour she liked the best…and so now our baby will be wearing maroon for the first few months of its life. I imagine that will make you chuckle._

_Love you always_

She stood up, and took one last look at the grave before weaving her way through the overgrown graveyard, retracing her steps.

She could see her mothers' red car on the road ahead of her, shining like a beacon in an otherwise bleak landscape. Squelching through the field, heedless of the mud that had been churned up by the near torrential rain moments beforehand, she made her way back towards the car, content that she had delivered her last letter.

_30th April 1999_

_Not long now until the baby is born. I have decided on William if it's a boy, and Rose if it's a girl. Those were the names of my grandparents. I hope you like them._

_This is the last letter I shall write to you. Once the baby is born, I'll not visit you for a while either. It has been seven months since you died. I wish you'd known of the baby before it happened. I wish you'd known that I was pregnant with your child._

_I remember when I first found out…it was a month after your funeral, and I was being sick nearly every day. At first I thought it was the shock – but then I realised I was late – and I knew._

_At first it made me feel ill. I didn't want it inside of me, it felt alien, unreal. How could I be pregnant? I am only twenty! And then I was angry at myself…how could I have let myself get pregnant? We were always careful._

_But then I felt something different. I wasn't happy, not by a long shot…but I was glad._

_I hope that I'll be a good mother to this baby when it is born, and I wish with all my heart that you could be here to see it grow up. I shall tell our baby all about its Dad…and in time he or she'll have lots of cousins to play with, aunts and uncles to visit. Did I mention Harry's asked Ginny to marry him? He's finally started to come back to life, gone back to the old Harry we knew at Hogwarts. I'm glad for them. Even now, I cannot bring myself to be entirely happy in anything I do. I am always 'glad'. I wish I could find it in myself to be happy. Perhaps one day soon when the baby is born._

_I love you Ron, and I'll make sure our baby loves you._

_Goodbye._

She sank down into the faux-leather seat of the car, and stretched the seatbelt to almost full capacity across her heavily pregnant form.

"Are you all right my love?" Her Mum asked.

Hermione felt the baby beat out a tattoo inside her, its legs kicking strongly, and she smiled.

"I will be."


End file.
